


what the price is

by littlelionlady



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Cigarettes, Drabble, Ficlet, M/M, Set in Episodes 159-160 | Scottish Safehouse Period (The Magnus Archives), a casestudy in hopelessness, as it is when it either wants you, or wants you dead, pondering the general state of the universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-07
Updated: 2020-12-07
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:54:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27934969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlelionlady/pseuds/littlelionlady
Summary: Jon ponders how they're going to make it out of this, does some star gazing, and Martin steals his cigarettes.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Kudos: 23





	what the price is

**Author's Note:**

> Edit 12/12/20 - a few quick grammatical fix ups. Nothing drastic.
> 
> I'm up to date and I am still not convinced I will make it to the end of this podcast. Jonny Sims is out here to get me I fuckin swear. This is just me trying to put into words how I think this is going to end. There are some incredible theories out there, and that's all well and good, but we all know this isn't going to end well. 
> 
> In the wise words of Tame Impala, _The Less I Know The Better._
> 
> Title from VICES by Mothica which I listened to on repeat writing this.

Jon looks back at the house and sees the strawberry blonde thatch of Martin’s hair disappearing from the ice-covered kitchen window. He breathes the smoke out in a heavy huff and instantly his head spins in that pleasant nicotine rush that he tries to regret. The stars, for once, are out, and the clear sky means that the air is frigid. The only warmth in the air is the glowing embers at the end of his cigarette. 

He looks up again and considers his place in this universe; in this timeline and in this reality. There is a startling probability and overwhelming likelihood that Elias - sorry, no,  _ Jonah _ is not done with them yet. Not done with him. He tries to ground himself, the cold and smoke scrape at his throat and lungs and he tries to relish in it. Tries to remember Martin back in the house, next to the fire, not saying anything when he comes inside smelling of cigarettes and snow and says nothing, makes no noise, even though there is a price to the cigarette. There is a price to reality too, Jon thinks. He pinches his arm hard enough to pucker the skin and leave crescent-shaped bruises in his forearm. 

Jon discovered from a very young age that he was highly intelligent and easily bored. This led to a series of jobs, from his uni days, that valued his knowledge and skillset in research. He was relied on to know the answers, or at least know how to find them. Now, here, in Scotland, between the stars and the snow and the cows and his pleasantly muted life with Martin where all they can do is experience the stagnant anxiety of having to  _ wait,  _ Jon’s beloved skillset lets him down. 

Yes, he can  _ know.  _ Anything really. He can know. 

But with this comes the knowledge that he cannot see what is coming. He cannot search for  _ that _ answer. 

He sucks in the last of his cigarette with shaking fingers and drops it into the snow. It sizzles briefly before snuffing out. 

“You’re not going to leave that there are you?” a quiet voice asks behind him. Jon starts before recognising Martin. 

“Does it matter?” he responds, making eye contact with Martin before turning his attention back to the sky. He can feel the heat of Martin’s body standing close to him and it makes him shiver. He is so cold now, all the time. So cold and so unbearably unsatisfied. 

He reaches into his coat pocket for the cigarettes and the lighter. He takes one, puts it between his teeth, and offers the packet to Martin. 

Martin squints at him, eyebrows drawing together before he reaches out and takes the pack, shaking one out into his hand and stowing the rest in his jeans. 

“Hey,” Jon protests. 

Martin holds up the hand currently not putting the unlit cigarette to his lips, “I have this with you and make no comment and maybe you’ll get them back tomorrow.”

Jon rolls his eyes and lights the smoke before passing it over the Martin who does the same. They stand shoulder to shoulder, blowing smoke into the stars. 

“Do you think it will ever be over?” 

Jon looks over at Martin. His chest feels like it’s swelling and sinking at the same time. There is a heavy sense of dread that comes with knowing that answer. 

Instead, he finishes his cigarette. 

**Author's Note:**

> find me on Tumblr at [thelittlelionlady](https://thelittlelionlady.tumblr.com/)


End file.
